Destined To Die
by ovolamp
Summary: ON HIATUS. Jimmy Boland came out of the post-invasion world with nothing. He was alone - no friends, no family, and nobody willing to fill the void. Children were a liability. There was only room for them if they were your own, and Jimmy didn't belong to anyone. Until he joined the resistance.


_Author note: _I've had this idea banging around in my head since the first few episodes of season two, which I will admit damn near broke my heart. Jimmy is one of my favorite characters in the series, and because I am a bit of a bleeding heart when it comes to the little guy, he ended up with his own story. Because of the direction I'm taking this in, it _will _follow the plot line of Falling Skies, but it _won't _stick to the canon character relationships and interactions.

If you do enjoy this story, please review!

_Disclaimer: _I do not own Falling Skies.

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Destined To Die

#1

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Jimmy sat in the corner of the mess, fork absently pushing the food around on his plate. He'd just gotten off patrol with his partner Kevin – a short, obnoxious fighter so confident in his own abilities that he was willing to take on a kid when nobody else would – and had been ordered to get some chow before finding somewhere to bed down for the night.

Being the good little soldier that he was, Jimmy had gone to do exactly that – despite the fact that he really wasn't that hungry in the first place.

Now, as he stared down at the sloppy, wet gruel on his plate, he was beginning to regret his own inability to disobey an order. His body was still recovering from the state of malnutrition the 2nd Mass had found him in a couple of weeks back, and sometimes, even if his stomach was empty and growling, he just couldn't bring himself to eat anything.

Not that he didn't try, because Jimmy did, forcing a couple of spoonful's down his throat before his gag reflex kicked in. He dropped his fork with a telling clatter, a hand reflexively reaching for his mouth as he swallowed back the bile. The noise around him tapered off as people turned to stare, and Jimmy let his eyes slide close as one particular gaze bore into him from across the room.

"Jimmy?" Doctor Glass asked, voice mothering and kind, as she slid around a table full of hardened resistance fighters, snapping her clipboard shut. It took her a few moments to reach him, tucked away in the corner where he was, but when she did, she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Jimmy, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Jimmy answered once he'd gotten a hold of himself, the tips of his ears tingeing pink at her concern. "Really I – I'm just not feeling too great..."

Somebody sniggered as Doctor Glass leaned closer to get a better look at him, her face creased with something that looked a lot like worry. Up close, Jimmy could see dark bags under her eyes and lines that hadn't been there the last few times he'd seen her. "What's wrong? How long have you been feeling like this?"

In the background, Liam, a teenage soldier who belonged to one of the few Captain's left in the resistance movement, mimicked Doctor Glass in a high-pitched voice. Some of his friends encouraged him, laughing and pretending to vomit on the tiles. Jimmy felt his face heat up at the teasing, shoulders hunching defensively as Doctor Glass reached out to feel his forehead. "I said I was fine," he told her, tone a little harsher than he'd intended it to be. "Please, just – just leave me alone."

"Jimmy..."

Liam seemed to find Jimmy's desperate attempt to stop Doctor Glass from fussing absolutely _hilarious_, guffawing as he turned back to his group. Nobody made a move to stop the heckling – not even the Doctor, though Jimmy couldn't blame her. Liam had an almost celebrity status that others didn't readily question, thanks to his father. But still – just because nobody would stop him didn't mean Jimmy had to sit there and put up with his crap.

Shoving his plate away, Jimmy stood from his seat. He kept his head bowed, letting his fringe fall into his eyes as he made for the door. He wasn't entirely sure where he planned on going – there weren't a lot of friends to be made when everybody was more concerned with protecting their own. Even so, he figured anywhere was better than where he was.

Maybe he'd set up his sleeping bag next to the shed that ran the generators again. It was noisy as hell, but it was warm and safe. There was always a patrol assigned to that part of camp – it was too important to leave unprotected.

"Jimmy," Doctor Glass called after him. He purposefully quickened his pace when she started to follow him, determined to leave her behind, but didn't quite make it as she snagged his elbow. "Let me help-"

It was the feeling of someone trying to physically restrain him that threw him over the edge, and Jimmy spun, ripping his arm out of her grasp. "I said leave me alone!"

Doctor Glass stumbled forward, not having the sense to let go when he started pulling, and teetered unsteadily on her feet for a few seconds before righting herself. Jimmy, who had leant forward instinctively to help despite being the one to put her in that position, stared at her guiltily.

He really, really hadn't meant to do that.

"I- I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Jimmy," Doctor Glass was quick to reassure, managing a half smile as she regained her composure. She tugged a lock of hair that had straggled loose from its bun behind her ear "It wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have done that."

Except it was his fault, and _he _shouldn't have done that. Jimmy opened his mouth to say that, to tell her not to make excuses for his own weakness, but the words wouldn't come. Upset, guilty, humiliated and at a complete loss of how to fix the situation, he started backing away, eventually spinning around to take off and -

"Whoa, easy there kiddo."

- running straight into none other than Tom Mason.

The ex-professor slid back a step as they collided, instinctively letting his rifle drop to the end of its strap in order to catch Jimmy.

"Tom?"

The man glanced up at the sound of his name, eyes crinkling in the corners as he caught sight of the Doctor behind Jimmy. Just like that, his attention was diverted. His hands slipped off Jimmy's shoulders, and he absently ruffled his hair like he would have done Matt or Ben's. "Anne," he acknowledged with a nod, "I've been looking for you."

"Is something wrong?" Anne asked, self-consciously smoothing her blouse as she moved closer to the two of them. "I'm sorry, I left Lourdes in charge of the infirmary – I didn't think I'd be needed -"

"No, no," Tom said, quick to try and put her at ease. Anne Glass was one of the few doctors in their ranks who had several years of medical practice under her belt – a vital skill when they were battling a superior force more adept at wounding them then they were at wounding it. He didn't need her any more stressed than she already was. "It's nothing like that. My, uh, my son, Matt. He's come down with a fever. I was hoping that you could take a look at him?"

"Oh," Anne replied, and then winced at her own in-eloquence – Tom Mason was known for being incredibly protective of his boys, having lost one to the Skitter's several weeks back. Being entrusted with the health of his child spoke to how high a regard he held her in. "I – of course I'll take a look. Is he still in the infirmary, or...?"

Tom was shaking his head. "Hal took him back to our room – 357, by the fire-escape?" Anne hummed her understanding and he continued. "Matt didn't want to wait in case, uh – well, in case Doctor Schilling showed up. He doesn't really..."

"Like him?" Anne guessed with a light-hearted chuckle, coming to a stop next to Jimmy, who, surprisingly, hadn't bolted. It might have had something to do with Tom's hand still sitting atop his head. "I have to admit I probably wouldn't have stuck around either. What are they calling him now? Doctor Scissorhands?"

"Yeah," Tom said, clearing his throat, expression almost sheepish. "I think we have my eldest to thank for that one. Or blame, rather. Needless to say, Matt was a bit... hysterical, at the prospect of meeting him."

"So you came and found me," she deduced, grinning. It lit up her face, brightening the spark that had been dulled over the course of the day. "That's fine – I'd be happy to help. If we can nip whatever this is in the bud quickly, then we might be able to stop it from spreading. The last bug that went around took a heavy toll on our medical supplies."

"That's what I was thinking," Tom agreed, tone taking on a more serious note – medicine was one of fundamental things they couldn't afford to lose, and unlike other resources, like food, water, and ammunition, there were only a few places where they could get it. Hospitals and pharmacies, with the hard-hitting drugs, were often in the centre of towns, cities, suburbs – where the Skitter's were. And if they weren't, chances were those places had already been picked clean. "As far as I know, Matt's the only one who's been feeling ill."

Anne nodded. "Right, well, I guess we'd better..." She trailed off as her gaze landed on Jimmy, standing awkwardly next to Tom, sheltered by the older man's presence. Behind them, Liam and his group of friends had fallen quiet and returned to their idle chatter. Nobody was outright staring at the orphan any more, and he looked relieved because of it. "You weren't feeling well, were you, Jimmy?"

At that, Jimmy tensed, sensing that he was about to become the centre of attention again. He shifted, starting to pull away from Tom, mentally kicking himself for hanging around too long. "I'm fine, just – just tired. I'll, uhm... I'll go to bed and get some sleep. I'll probably feel better in the morning."

He didn't get very far. Tom, who still had his hand tangled in the kid's hair, glanced down at him, mode instantly switching to parental. He let his hand slip down to feel Jimmy's forehead, brow creasing as he picked up a noticeable temperature difference between them. "Hmm."

"What is it?" Anne questioned, hesitant to check herself after the way Jimmy had reacted to her earlier. "Has he got a temperature?"

"Well, I'm not a doctor," the ex-professor said, almost jokingly, as he felt around Jimmy's face, feeling the same spike in temperature nearly everywhere he touched. "But it doesn't feel normal – feels a bit like Matt did yesterday, before he came down with a fever."

Jimmy was as still as a post, reluctant to move despite his own uneasiness with the situation. Tom Mason might have been a history professor before the invasion, but in the few months after it, he'd quickly made a name for himself with his sound military knowledge and good leadership skills. He was a respected fighter in their ranks, which made him both a commanding officer and role model to Jimmy's eager, impressionable self. "I'm fine, really-"

"Jimmy, please," Anne tried, channeling her concern through the advantage Tom had provided. It was clear Jimmy looked up to the man, like so many others, and she wasn't about to let the opportunity to build a rapport with him slip by. Not when the professor was there to facilitate. "All I want is to make sure you're alright. Come back with us while I check on Matt and I'll take a look at you. I'll let leave as soon as you're cleared, okay?"

"I –"

"Listen to the doctor now," Tom interrupted, past experience letting him know that it was better to defuse this now before Jimmy and Anne got into it. With three boys of his own, he knew exactly what that mulish expression on Jimmy's face meant, and, having spent nearly two decades married to his late wife Rebecca, he also knew how overbearing a frustrated mother hen could get. "You might think you know better now, but in a few weeks' time, when you've got a cut that needs stitching, you're going to wish you'd been nicer to her. Trust me – it's always better to do what the doctor asks, even if you don't want to."

"Wise words," Anne remarked with an amused smile – she'd heard that same spiel before, when Hal came down with the flu a month or so ago, but refused to admit that he had it. "What do you say, Jimmy? You'll make us feel better if you do – won't he Tom?"

Tom nodded. "I'd rather you did come with us, Jimmy." He clapped the younger boy on the back. "You're a good soldier, but you're no use to us sick."

A good soldier – that was all Jimmy wanted to be. And to hear those words coming from the mouth of Tom Mason was the highest praise he could dream of getting. The ex-professor had him – hook, line and sinker.

"Okay," Jimmy relented, finally. "Okay."

Head bowed to hide the flush staining his cheeks, Anne and Tom shared a knowing look, relieved as much as they were triumphant. It was so easy to forget Jimmy – as quiet as a mouse with nobody left to speak for him, the kid just didn't get heard. At least this time, they'd remembered him.


End file.
